


Propinquity

by Trotzkopf



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Disagreement and making up, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Leather and Lace Romance Week 2018, M/M, Retirement, Sharing a Bed, Soulmates, Trapped, UST, the love interest is the last to find out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-17 01:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13648212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trotzkopf/pseuds/Trotzkopf
Summary: The unthinkable is happening. Havelock Vetinari retires and Sam Vimes can't handle it.





	1. Incredulity

**Author's Note:**

> Contribution to Leather (NSFW) & Lace (G rated) Romance week 2018   
> "The aim of this week is to encourage fans to create art, write fanfiction, or discuss their favourite romantic tropes. Each day is themed to a classic romance trope."
> 
> I took liberties with the original trope order. My order is:
> 
> 1\. Trapped Together   
> 2\. Disagreements and Making up   
> 3\. Valentines Day   
> 4\. Friends/Enemies to Lovers   
> 5\. Fake Relationship/Engagements/Marriage   
> 6\. Two people/One Bed   
> 7\. Soulmates / Destined to be together

Although one of nature's pedestrians and happiest when he was able to walk the cobbled streets of Ankh-Morpork, Sam Vimes was not by nature claustrophobic which was a good thing, given the circumstances. 

"How long will it take?" He shouted at the people on the other side of the heavy, metal shutter. 

"It's on a timer, commander. The next opportunity will be in an hour." 

Vimes sighed and wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. It had only been two minutes and already the air seemed stifling. The small room was barely 5' by 4' feet with nearly half the space taken up by a metal cabinet, housing the complicated controls which were hooked to the mechanism, the very heart of the grand Undertaking. 

The space was made even smaller by the presence of the Patrician who had stood next to Vimes when the shutter descended right after the commander had asked, "And what does that do?" Before he pointed at the red button next to a little plaque. The words _'Press only in case of emergency'_ were engraved on it. 

Vimes sighed. "I dare say we'll be here, sergeant." There was a muffled reply followed by footsteps. 

"Well done, commander. When I invited you to assess the new security measures for the control room, I hadn't anticipated you'd treat us to a live demonstration." 

Vimes glared at Vetinari. That the man looked more amused than harassed only fuelled Sam's mostly self-directed anger. 

"You don't need to rub it in. This was partially your fault."

Vetinari raised an eyebrow. “My fault?”

"Yes! You pushed me when you turned to talk to Mr Pony. And why is this room so small?" 

They were so close he could tell which soap the Patrician preferred and that they apparently liked the same brand of shaving cream. 

“If our proximity bothers you.” The Patrician turned his back to the wall and leaned against it, leaving Vimes to wonder for a second why it hadn’t bothered Vetinari, before he did the same on the other side, giving them both a bit more space. 

"Only one person is supposed to operate in here at all times,” the Patrician explained. “You can direct or shut down everything from inside this room if you know what you're doing."

Vimes considered this, his eyes darting along the walls. The slow blinking lights from the panel danced on every surface. He pointed at a narrow metal grate just below the ceiling. 

"If that's the only way we get air, it would be easy to scare whoever is working in here into closing the room off and then poisoning them through that. All you have to do afterward is wait until the shutter rises. It’s so easy, Nobby could do it.” 

Vetinari raised an eyebrow. "Well done, commander. I shall discuss the matter with Mr Pony."

Vimes grunted and folded his arms across his chest. He didn't need to be praised for doing his job. Vetinari knew that, so why did he insist on doing it anyway? 

"I give credit where credit is due, Sir Samuel." 

“And stop reading my mind!" 

"I'm not. I just know how you think. We've been working together for what- almost 20 years now?" A small smile tugged on the corners of Vetinari's mouth. 

Vimes scratched his chin. "Seems longer." 

Sam tried to think of a time when Vetinari hadn’t been present in his life and found it impossible, if not downright uncomfortable to contemplate. Just as the city, the Patrician seemed to be a fixture in his world. Terrifying, aggravating and reliable as a boulder. 

"I'm going to retire." 

It came out of nowhere and felt like a blow with a sledgehammer. The rock smashed. 

“What? When?” 

“Hogswatch Eve.” 

Vimes stared at him with his mouth open while his mind tried to conceive a reality where he would walk into the Oblong Office and Havelock Vetinari wouldn't be there. His imagination rebelled. 

"But- you can't!" 

"I can and I will. It's in the city's best interest." 

"The hell it is! What- _Why_?" 

Everything he took for granted in life was tumbling upside down. He had thought Sybil and Sam moving to Quirm had been a turning point, but this here? This was worse. Relationships change, fact of life. But Vetinari retiring - inconceivable!

"We are standing on the threshold of a new era," the Patrician pointed at the lights. 

"So what? Who if not you will keep this ant-heap of a city operating? You can’t do this!“ Vimes was nearly shouting.

Vetinari raised an eyebrow. “You seem to take this rather personal, commander. Why are you so upset?"

Why indeed? Vimes opened and closed his mouth a few times. He went for the first explanation that presented itself and didn’t sound completely pathetic. 

"You told me years ago what people really want from life is that tomorrow is pretty much like today. Apparently, I'm one of the people." 

Vetinari stared at him for a long time as if he was mulling this over. The problem with this was it gave Sam too much time to do the same. 

Was he really just an old dog unwilling to learn new tricks? 

He tried picturing the Oblong Office again. 11am - their usual time. He opened the door and instead of the tall, familiar figure who commanded awe and terror by his sheer presence, he was greeted by the shiny smile of Moist von Lipwig. Sam's stomach turned. 

No!

"He's what the city needs,” Vetinari said, reading his mind again. "He has a talent for persuading people to accept change, and sometimes the leopard has to change his shorts, Sir Samuel." 

"But he's a criminal!" 

"Reformed criminal, and the people love him for it. They turn up just to see what he’ll get away with next time.“

"Not all people," growled Vimes. "Some of us prefer corkscrew honesty, even if it comes with a dose of terror. Lipwig's a fraud."

Vetinari sighed. “I’ve driven this city before me, scared them into moving onward. It's time to see what a man can do with the people behind him, egging him on. Besides, I’m not getting any younger.”

Granted neither of them did. But while Sam’s years were edged into his features, Vetinari could easily pass for a man ten years younger despite the fact that he had carried Ankh-Morpork on his back for over thirty years. 

As for mental agility and fitness, Sam had never felt better, especially since he had given up smoking. He could chase, tackle and defeat men half his age without breaking into a sweat. But he was a senior citizen compared to the Patrician who could outwit whole countries before breakfast, and Sam would bet his life he still scaled buildings and jumped rooftops for fun. That cane was fooling no-one in this room.  

“You are smarter and better looking than Lipwig any day of the week.“ 

Vetinari’s smile was shockingly bright. “Why, thank you commander. You’re quite handsome yourself.” 

“That’s not- I didn’t mean- What I meant to say-“ Sam’s ears were burning with embarrassment. 

Whether he took pity on him or wanted to make a point, Vetinari stopped smiling and said, “Be that as it may, please consider this. I’ve been Patrician for over thirty years. I think I’ve earned a little selfish indulgence like say walking down the street without having to worry whether anything I do will jeopardise the future of a million lives.”

Sam rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. As usual, Vetinari was right. But that didn’t mean Sam had to like it.

“Damn. And I’d just gotten the hang of dealing with you.”

As if the day couldn’t get any weirder, the Patrician laughed out loud. Vimes stared at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. When Vetinari noticed, he chuckled, “Have I got something on my face, Sir Samuel?” 

Sam nodded, and before he could stop himself, he said, “But it’s a good look on you.” 

Vetinari took a step closer and the room seemed smaller than ever. “Commander, if I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me.”

Maybe it was Vimes’ imagination or the lack of fresh air, but it seemed Vetinari sounded just a tiny bit breathless. Maybe it was from all that laughing he never did - at least not in front of other people, especially not the commander of the Watch. 

Something weird was happening and Vimes had the odd feeling he had started it. He pressed his back against the wall. When he tried to lick his lips, he found he had no spit left. 

“I’m not,” he heard himself mumble, his eyes suddenly glued to Vetinari’s mouth. 

What was happening? 

The shutter rose with a deafening clank. Time was up. 

“There you are! All good?” asked Mr Pony with the shaky smile of people who weren’t sure they could go on smiling tomorrow. 

Vimes hurried out of the confined space into the slightly fresher air. 

“All good. I’ll-,” he avoided everyone’s gaze as he cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you to it.”


	2. Equality

Time flies, especially when you don't want it to. It was the morning of Hogswatch Eve and the last day of office for Havelock Vetinari. 

_The last day of office for Havelock Vetinari!_

He’d be the first Patrician to retire. All the others had - or had been - dropped dead. The commander had always thought this would be Vetinari’s fate as well, either this or he’d live forever. Funny how that thought had transformed over the years from terrifying to reassuring. 

However, a new year would begin tomorrow and a new Patrician would sit in the Oblong Office. Moist von Lipwig would greet him with his smile and charm and Vimes felt ill just thinking about it. 

“Come in,” Vetinari called and Sam kicked himself for knowing he’d miss this, starting the day after Hogswatch.

Vimes closed the door and paused to take in the scene. He wanted to memorise it, every detail. The light, the desk, Vetinari sitting in his chair, still engrossed in a letter. Sam took a deep breath, the air smelled of paper and steel. 

“Sir,” greeted Vimes, surprised how steady his voice sounded.

“Please take a seat. I’m just finishing a few things. Loose ends and so on.” 

Sam sat, his eyes drifting to the empty spot where the Thud board should be. 

“Where is the board? We hadn’t finished yet.”

“Pardon?” Vetinari looked up.

“Our game, we weren’t finished. Why did you put it away? There was still time.”

The Patrician put the letter down and steepled his fingers. “Commander, even if we’d played all day, we wouldn’t have come to an end. Besides, I’m sure we both remember where we were. I see no reason why we can’t pick up where we've left off at another time and place.” 

“It won’t be the same.” Vimes huffed.

“Are we still talking about Thud?” The question was a courtesy because he already knew the answer. Sam kept staring at the empty spot, hands balled into fists. He wanted to punch something. 

_We weren’t finished!_

Vetinari sighed and changed the subject. “I thought you’d have gone to Quirm to see your son?”

“Not this year. I wrote a letter, he understands.”

“Good to see that at least one Samuel Vimes is capable of it.” 

“Shut up!” Sam yelled, slapping his palm on the desk. Vetinari didn’t even flinch. “You still haven’t told me why. _Why?_ Every time I ask, I get your propaganda speech, the one you gave to the Guilds before they practically carried Lipwig in here on their shoulders. Why, damn you?“

The Patrician held up a hand, still perfectly composed. “Sir Samuel, we’ve known each other for a long time now and despite our differences, I’ve a great deal of respect for you.”

Sam could feel his ears reddening. Why couldn't the man just answer a simple question? 

Vetinari continued, “Can I be honest?”

“I don’t know, can you?” 

“I’m tired, Vimes.”

“Have you tried sleeping like a normal human?”

Vetinari pinned him with a look. “Do you remember the goblin girl who played the harp?” 

“Tears of the mushroom?”

“Was that her name? I’m afraid I don’t recall, shameful really. I shan’t forget again. She played this wonderful music and changed the fate of her people, but not just her people. I dare say she changed a lot of lives that night at the opera house. I suddenly remembered, as you were so droll to point out, I’m a human and not just a wheel in the machinery.”

Vimes stared, unsure how to respond. This here was Havelock Vetinari having a heart to heart with him of all people and he wasn’t prepared for that, even less so than he had been for the announcement of his retirement. But he had asked for it, hadn’t he? 

He swallowed before he croaked, “I know what you mean. I cried like a baby when I heard her play for the first time. But I can’t say it made me question my place in the world.” 

“But I stake my life on it, it made you realise things you had forgotten or thought lost forever. It conjured up what ifs and might bes. And perhaps because I’ve neglected mine for so long, it felt like waking up from a stupor. I’m not a sentimental man, but I am a man. I’d like a chance to remember what that’s like.”

They stared at each other while silence stretched until Sam whispered, “I suppose I can’t argue with that.” 

But he could be angry with himself. He had been so wrapped up in his own reaction to the news that he had forgotten to pause and think what it meant for the man it actually concerned. 

“I’m sorry."

“For what?” asked Vetinari.

“I shouldn’t have- Uhm. I was so busy worrying about…the city. I think I, too, forgot you’re a person under all this." He should have stopped there but his mouth carried on. "Silly really, you've bled and thrown up on me plenty over the years. Still, I never saw you as just another man.”

He rubbed the back of his head with a wry grin which turned into a grimace. Maybe he had imagined it but Sam thought he saw the shadow of disappointment cross Vetinari’s face, and he couldn’t blame him. 

The commander stood up. He’d better leave before he put his foot in his mouth again. “I should go, I’m sure you’ve things to do. Loose ends and all that.”

Vetinari cleared his throat and rose out of his seat. “Thank you, Sir Samuel. It has been a privilege and a pleasure to work with you. I shall miss this. I dare say, 11am will always be special.” 

For some reason, Sam’s chest felt tight. When he looked down he saw Vetinari’s outstretched hand. He stared at it like it was an alien object from the Dungeon Dimensions. The only time they had ever touched was when Sam had to half carry the man to safety. But not even on his wedding day or the birth of his son had they shook hands. Something so simple and yet with the Patrician it suddenly seemed...intimate. 

When nothing happened, Vetinari carefully pulled his hand back. His face was closed off, but now that Sam had finally realised there was an actual human being under all this tight control, it didn’t take a genius to figure out he had just hurt the man’s feelings. 

He sighed and rubbed the back of his head. How many times was he going to mess up today? Surely there had to be an upper limit. 

Before he could second guess himself, he dropped his helmet in his vacated chair and stepped around the desk into the Patrician’s personal space. Vetinari's face betrayed nothing until Sam reached for his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. He took a deep breath to suppress a shiver when he felt Vetinari's thumb slide across his skin. A familiar scent hit him and suddenly it was as if they were in that tiny room again with nothing but a few flashing lights for company. Something had almost happened that day. He had no idea what that "something" was but maybe if they had more time...

“Where are you going after today is done?” Vimes asked. “I mean it’s Hogswatch Eve and if you’re-“

“I’m leaving tonight. The train departs at 6:30pm for Genua.” 

Sam became suddenly aware that they were still holding hands. He hastily let go and stepped back. 

He coughed. “I see.” 

“I think it’s for the best to make a clean break. Give everyone a fresh start.” 

“Sure, sure. Right, then. Uhm…”

“Goodbye, commander. I know I’m leaving the city in good hands.” 

“It’s Sam.” 

“What?” It was gratifying to see the man could actually be surprised. 

“My friends call me Sam, or Mister Vimes, suit yourself.” 

Oh, that had taken only, what? Twenty years or so. To be fair, they had only been something like friends for the past three, and in these past weeks Vimes had been a shitty one at that. But maybe it was not too late to make up for the worst of it. Even if Vetinari left tonight, maybe knowing he still had a friend in the city would count for something. 

“Sam.” Vetinari said as if he was trying the name out for size before he smiled. “Thank you, ...my friend.”

Vimes grunted in response. He looked around the room. His face felt hot, although he was unsure what there was to be embarrassed about. 

“Well, I’d better be off. Need to check on the security for the ceremony tonight.” 

He went to pick up his helmet and saluted one last time. “Sir.” 

“It’s Havelock.”

“I know,” he mumbled, hand on the door handle. “Next time.” 


	3. Clandestinity

Vimes was dreaming, except this wasn’t a normal dream. There was no dark city. No beast. And no watchman proceeding through the fog with his lantern. Instead, he stood in front of two ornamental doors. He could hear fancy music and the braying laughter of the thoroughly inbred on the other side. 

This wasn’t just a dream. This was a memory from a few months ago when Sam had still lived under the illusion Lord Vetinari and Ankh-Morpork were a match till death do part us.

The Cupid’s Ball. An annual high society charity event. Everyone who was anyone would be here tonight. 

“Your grace, what a pleasant surprise.” 

Vimes didn’t even turn around. He would recognise that voice anywhere. Lord Vetinari stepped next to him. “No red tights?” 

“No red tights. No doublet. No coronet. Be happy that I showed up at all, will you?”

“Oh, I’m always happy to see you, but I dare say I don’t know why you’d insinuate your attendance is somehow my doing?” 

Vimes turned to face him. “Stop playing silly buggers! You know exactly what I mean.”

Vetinari’s face radiated - nothing. It was deadpan as ever. Sam sighed. What was the point? This morning the Patrician had casually mentioned that the Duke of Ankh couldn’t keep avoiding the upper crust forever in his position and might as well get it over with. Vimes had grudgingly conceded the point. 

“Shall we?” Vetinari asked. 

The doors swung open. Their presence was announced to the party. Heads turned, hushed conversations vibrated around the room. Only after they had settled for a spot by the buffet did it occur to Sam what it must have looked like. Ah well, there were already so many rumours floating around the city since Sybil had left him, one more didn’t matter at this point. Without thinking, he grabbed a champagne flute off the nearest tray.

When he noticed the Patrician’s raised eyebrow, he explained, “If I don’t hold onto this, someone will sidle over and ask me if I want a drink every few minutes as a pretence to strike up a conversation.” 

“I see.” Vetinari picked up a drink as well. “What do you think of the decoration?” 

“Tacky - as every year. One would think they could at least choose a different colour.”

Oh good. Instead of nobby sycophants, he now had to make small talk with his lordship. Could this day get any better? 

The corner of Vetinari's mouth twitched. “It is supposed to be a celebration of romantic love. Out of curiosity, which colour would you’ve chosen?” 

For some reason, all Sam’s brain was willing to supply was, _“Just don’t say black.”_

What he did say was, “I dunno. Not blood red. I see enough of it on the job and it’s never romantic.” 

Vetinari treated him to one of his lightning fast smiles. “Fair point.”

On the other side of the room two ladies were excitedly fluttering their fans. Vimes groaned inwardly and contemplated actually drinking the damn champagne. 

“Remind me why I’m here, your lordship?” 

“Why, the same reason we’re all here: to be seen of course.” 

“Well, everyone has seen me, can I go?” 

Vetinari just gave him a look which spoke volumes. It said, “It’s entirely up to you, but if you leave before the charity auction without a solid reason, everyone will make up their own why you left, and none of them will be pleasant or, worse, helpful to me. So, stay put, do something charitable with all that money your ex-wife gave you and be available in case I need you to scare someone into compliance. There's a good chap.” 

Vimes sighed, glass already raised when he caught Vetinari’s eye again. He let the glass sink and mumbled, “Might as well be married. You’re just as bad as Sybil.” 

“Since you mention her-.“ Damn, Vetinari had the hearing of a bat. “I know it’s none of my business, but how is Lady Sybil? I understand you remain friends?” 

“She’s doing well. Busy with preparations for the wedding, and please don’t pretend you don’t know this already. I know she writes to you. I would wager you know more about how my son is doing at that fancy Quirmian college than I do.”

“Oh, I very much doubt that. She still speaks very highly of you.”

Yes, that was exactly how Vimes had wanted to spend his evening: chatting about his failed marriage to the Patrician. Granted, he had given Sybil his blessing when she had fallen in love with her childhood friend while she helped Young Sam settle into the new school his son had been desperate to attend. What mattered was that she was happy and would forever be a part of his life, but it still wasn’t a subject he wanted to discuss with Vetinari. 

All he needed now was an inept diplomat asking him under his breath for directions to the Whore Pits and horny high society ladies pinching his buttock because, apparently, when you were divorced you were suddenly fair game, and it would be pretty much his idea of hell.

“And how are you doing, Sir Samuel?”

The question came out of nowhere. “Me? Well, I’m…fine. Busy at work, as usual. Why do you ask?”

“Let’s just say it suddenly occurred to me that a ball intended to celebrate romance may not have been the most tactful suggestion.”

Vimes’s hand flew to his heart and he staggered a few steps just for effect. “Your lordship, did you just admit to having committed a faux pas?” 

The look on Vetinari’s face was priceless. Sam watched the muscles in the man’s jaw clench, whether he was trying not to laugh or to snarl was anyone’s guess. Maybe this evening wasn’t going to be so bad after all. A few heads had turned their way when Vimes had put on his little show, and he wanted to punch each and every one of them. 

“How can you stand this every day?” Sam asked, glaring at the crowd.

“You’ll have to be more specific. Do you mean the hidden daggers, the whispers, the scheming? Everyone waiting like vultures for you to make a wrong move?” 

“No, I meant the horrible catering - not a knuckle sandwich in sight.” 

Vetinari briefly turned away, hand covering his mouth. The mask was back in place when he faced Vimes again but there was an undeniable spark in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Something fluttered inside Sam's chest. Hunger. Yeah, right. He should eat something. 

“So, where is your undead - pardon me - _differently alive_ lady tonight? Isn’t this the sort of thing you’re supposed to attend with your lover?” Sam asked, absentmindedly swirling the champagne he wasn’t allowed to drink.

“I assume you’re referring to my dear friend, Lady Margolotta. She’s in Überwald, as far as I know.”

“As far as you know?” 

“Yes, Vimes.” Vetinari sighed and sipped his champagne, given the commander a chance to study the man’s profile with narrowed eyes.

He was rather striking. It wasn't just the tall, mysterious assassin thing silly romance novels were going on about. There was something about him. He was undeniably brilliant. When he wanted to, he only had to enter a room to draw people's attention. He could silence crowds with a mere glance. Come to think of it, Vimes was midly surprised Vetinari didn’t have to fight them off with a stick.

Gods knew he - Sam Vimes - wasn’t much to look at, but titles and money turned even the ugliest potato into a prince. Ever since his divorce he had to resort to some drastic measures to get women’s and some men’s hands out of his breeches. So why weren’t they all over this man? He had the titles, the money and the looks. Sheer terror was one thing, but some people would only see that as an incentive. The vampire was certainly a deterrent, but something about the way Vetinari had spoken about her made Vimes wonder how close their relationship really was. And why was he thinking about Vetinari's love life or lack thereof all of a sudden? 

Then again, the man had rather rudely intruded on Sam's personal affairs without any consideration for his feelings. Maybe it was time to turn the table if only to see how the slippery bastard would wriggle out of this one. 

“I want an honest answer to a straightforward, personal question,” said Sam. 

Vetinari raised an eyebrow.

"Call it compensation for the faux pas," Vimes added, just so there wouldn't be any misunderstandings.

He held Vimes' gaze for a minute, followed by a nearly imperceptible nod. To be honest, Vimes was surprised. The cynic in him immediately deduced there had to be something in it for Vetinari, otherwise he'd have never agreed. Curiosity, perhaps. He had noticed the Patrician was intensely inquisitive by nature. He just never appeared that way because he kept ahead of the game through his extensive spy network. But short of being psychic, Vetinari had to actually allow the question to be asked if he wanted to know which part of his closely guarded private life Sam was interested in. 

“Are you currently in love with anyone?”

The Patrician didn't react. Or rather he anti-reacted which isn't quite the same as going deadpan and what you got when people went completely still because they were afraid to give anything away. Had they been playing Cripple Mister Onion, Vimes would have gone all in at his point. Without a word, Sam took the empty champagne glass out of Vetinari’s unresisting hand and replaced his with his full flute. He had to suppress a smirk. This was good. 

“Well?” Vimes prodded. 

"Yes.” 

Who would have guessed? In all these years, the notion had never even crossed Sam's mind. There were people, and then there was the Patrician. It was hard to imagine the man genuinely cared about anything but his dog or Ankh-Morpork. Ahhh...

"The city doesn't count, your lordship. Neither do pets. I should have mentioned that."

Vetinari gave him a look. "The answer is still yes, Sir Samuel." 

“Huh. Then why is this elusive person not here tonight?”

This was technically another question, and truth be told, he should let this go. But, for once, he had the man on the back foot, and this was just too good an opportunity to pass up. 

“Who says they aren’t?”

Now it was Vimes' turn to raise an eyebrow. He automatically glanced around the room in search for a clandestine, loving gaze cast into their general direction, but found only the usual nosiness and thinly veiled hatred. Whoever it was, was at least as sneaky as the tall bastard next to him. 

“Truly? Then what are you standing around with me for?” 

Vetinari snorted. “For the pleasure of your company, commander.” 

Vimes scoffed. "And there it is, your famous sarcasm. Should have known you were having me on. Fine. Don't tell me, it's none of my business anyway."

Before Vetinari could retort, the bell rang, signalling the beginning of the auction, and the end of Vimes’ dream. 

*~*

Sam opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

What a strange thing to remember! 

He glanced at the window. Another day dawned. Another day where he would send Captain Angua or Carrot to the palace to give the daily report to the Patrician because he couldn’t. 

It had been four months since Vetina- since _Havelock's_ retirement and Vimes had yet to set foot into that place again. Every time he even came close, his stomach turned. 

Four months and not a word. 

His eyes fell on the Thud board he had set up on a small table by the window. Two chairs on either side. The game set from memory, just as they had left it.

Vimes muttered under his breath about unfinished business as he started to get dressed. After Sybil and Sam had gone, he had moved back into an apartment on the top floor of Pseudopolis Yard. At least it meant he had a short commute. Besides, a man could get lonely in that big house on Scoone Avenue all by himself. 

Speaking of lonely, he wondered what Havelock was doing? Had he met up with his elusive lover and disappeared into the sunset?

Vimes fist hit the wall, adding another dent to the impressive collection he had acquired since he had moved here. 

“Damnit, where are you, you bastard?” He closed his eyes.

Images flashed in front of his eyes. He saw a tall figure dressed in grey and green jump across rooftops. The sun was just rising over the peak of the Kackstuhl - he recognised the mountain because he got stuck on one of its passes on the way back from Borogravia a few years ago. The figure slipped through a skylight into a dark house. Suddenly, a match flared, its flame reflected in half a dozen mirrors. Three of them smashed in the ensuing fight. There were too many. It was a trap. The intruder was knocked down, disarmed and tied to a chair. Even before the captors pulled the hood off, Vimes knew who he would see. Damn! 

Just before Sam's eyes flew open, he heard the demon's voice, "He doesn't have much time, commander. Fly!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May I invite you, gentle reader, to re-read the previous chapter now that you know how Vetinari feels. Think about it while you take in Sam's words. Bring tissues.
> 
> Btw. "Kackstuhl" is a German colloquialism for toilet.


	4. Serendipity

Vimes wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he knew he had to do it fast or Havelock would be late, and Vetinari had always maintained that punctuality was the politeness of princes. In other words, it was a safe bet he’d prefer to remain among the living, as did Sam, which was why he hadn’t even hesitated when he had dragged the magic carpet out of the evidence locker and onto the roof. 

Carrot and Vetinari shared the philosophy that personal wasn’t the same as important, but Vimes had never gotten the hang of that sentiment. 

“You can thank me later for that, you bloody bastard, when I drag your scrawny arse back to the city where you belong!” 

Sam peeked over the edge of the roof. The cobbles looked especially solid today. 

_“He doesn’t have much time, commander.”_

“Sod it!” 

Sam flew. 

The closest town to the Kackstuhl was Bad Seelenruhe, a famous resort for the wealthy. It had criminal haven written all over it for the sort of crime people committed while eating caviar and drinking champagne. Vimes had stopped there once because the pass through the mountains had been closed. Three days he had spent in that aristocratic hellhole. Now, with hindsight, this might have been a blessing in disguise because it meant he had a pretty good idea where Havelock was. 

“Demons. Visions. Bloody _magic_. The things I do for you,” Vimes growled under his breath as he sped toward the horizon. 

However, about five minutes into the flight he realised why thinking before you act was considered a virtue because he was freezing his balls off. Ice-crystals were forming on his breastplate and in his eyebrows. 

When Sto Lat finally appeared under him, Sam landed on the roof of the local police station and, after hugging the stove for some time, quickly restocked. It took him twenty precious minutes before he was back in the air. He had traded his armour for a gambeson, and his helmet for a wooly hat with ear flaps and mittens. Sam felt somewhat guilty for having lied to the local captain - a sammy - about being in hot pursuit because she snatched her sergeant’s packed lunch off his desk and threw it to Sam together with a flask of hot cocoa. 

With every passing hour, Sam became more worried, willing the damn rug to fly faster. He didn’t dare close his eyes long enough for the demon to show him another vision because the Summoning Dark didn’t just take your finger, it swallowed you whole. Why had it helped, he had no idea? Maybe it was looking forward to some violence and, oh, there would be plenty. 

Vimes tried not to think about what they were doing to Havelock while he had to waste time travelling. But he would get there, and then whoever they were would be sorry. 

It was mid-afternoon when the town came into view. A flying carpet would attract attention but time was wasting, besides, stealth wasn’t really his style. From the air, it was surprisingly easy to spot the house with the skylight. Now what? Front door or roof, front door or roof? Roof! The quickest way to find him was to follow his steps. 

Shards of glass crunched under his boots when he walked around the mirror room. No-one had come running yet and there were no angry shouts of, “He got in through the roof,” which meant he remaind undetected for now. The chair they had tied Vetinari to was still here, but no sight of him other than a pattern on the floor where two people had dragged something heavy between them. 

Sam’s heart was thudding in his chest. Following the trail, he carefully opened a door which lead to a hallway. He listened for any sounds, but it was quiet as the grave in the house. 

“Don’t be dead! I’ll get Igor to bring you back just so I can you kill myself if you’re dead,” Vimes muttered between clenched teeth as he crept down the stairs until he got to the cellar door. It was locked. Of course. When he couldn’t find the key, but also no sign of guards, Vimes kicked the lock until it gave. 

The hardest part at this point was to clamp down on the copper instinct that told him no guards were a BAD sign. When you had a valuable - _living_ \- prisoner you wouldn’t leave him unguarded - locked room or not. 

“No! NO! Stop thinking, Vimes, and do the job that's in front of you!" he growled.

The cellar was cold, musty and empty save for another door. This one was locked too which was quickly remedied with a few well placed kicks. 

“Ah, it’s you again,” greeted a familiar voice and Sam’s knees nearly buckled in relief. He was alive. 

“There’s no time for that, let’s go!” Vimes said half to himself, already reaching for Havelock to drag him along. 

“My, my, aren’t you in a rush all of a sudden. I admit this is rather more entertaining than the endless circular talking but, as I’ve explained to you a dozen times already, I think I’ll remain here for now until the effects have worn off, if it’s all the same to you, commander.” Vetinari replied as he twisted his arm out of Sam’s grip. 

“What are you talking about? We gotta get outta here before they come back.” 

Havelock sighed. “Oh, this again, really? We’ve been through all this during our previous chats today.”

“What are you on about? I just got here!”

“You’re a figment of my imagination brought on by involuntary intoxication with Lunashade, inexpertly administered to me for interrogation purposes,” Vetinari explained patiently before he waved a hand into Sam’s direction and turned toward the wall. 

Over his shoulder he added, “As much as I enjoy the pleasure of your company, you are not him, and I miss him enough as it is. And now, don’t let me detain you, and I do hope this was your last visit. ”  

Vimes stared as he tried to make sense of what he had just heard. “You miss me?” He shook his head - no time for that! 

“They drugged you?” Sam asked, instead.

When he got nothing but silence, Sam barked, “Oh, for the love of- “ He spun the other man around and hit him in the solar plexus, catching the falling figure on the way down and knocking him over the head with the pommel of his sword. 

“I’m really sorry, sir, but we have no time to play ten rounds of silly buggers,” he explained, hefting his unconscious friend over his shoulder. 

“We were lucky enough- “ he shifted the weight a bit as a ascended the stairs, “-that whoever got you was stupid enough to leave you unguarded. A million to one chance, really. Ah damn, how can such a skinny arse be so heavy?” 

Sam wheezed as he made it back to the top floor. There had to be another way to the roof. The sound of a door being unlocked echoed up the staircase. 

Whoops - we’re fresh out of luck, he thought, and tried the first door that he knew didn’t lead back to the mirror room. He closed the door behind him and wedged a chair under the handle. There was a window which led onto a ledge. Sam had to put Havelock down to open it. Downstairs the voices were getting louder. 

For unknown reasons, the Lady was favouring them again. There were rungs which led to the roof just outside, but could he get up there and carry Vetinari? 

Someone yelled, “They can’t have gone far - search the house!” 

Well, he was going to find out. He slung Havelock over his shoulder and, without looking down, started to climb. 

“In here!” 

There were thuds as if a body was smashing into a door, followed by the sound of splintering wood. 

“The roof!” 

But, all the kidnappers were able to see was a dot in the sky, getting smaller and smaller as it flew away toward the Plains. 

Vimes had his legs on either side of Havelock’s prone form who was reclining against his chest, his face pressed against Sam’s jaw. When he shivered, Vimes clumsily unbuckled his gambeson and wrapped it as best he could around them both. He had lost the hat and mittens at some point, but there was nothing he could do about that now. 

Vetinari sighed, snuggling into Sam’s body heat. 

“You missed me, huh?” Vimes asked the unconscious man, turning his head a fraction, his lips accidentally brushing against Havelock’s forehead. 

He flinched in shock when he heard a quiet, “Yes. Very much.” 

Sam tried to swallow, but his mouth had run dry. “Sir? …Havelock?” 

When he didn’t receive a reply, he tried again, “Are you awake?” 

“No, dreaming.” 

After a moment’s hesitation, Vimes whispered, “What’re you dreaming about?” 

There was a sigh and subtle shift. Vetinari pressed his face even closer. He was clearly still asleep. It must be the drug, Sam thought. They were trying to get information from him. That’s why he was still alive. Whatever they were after, he hadn’t given it to them yet. 

“Head hurts.” 

“Sorry, that’s my fault. What else?” 

“’s okay. I’m flying. It’s cold, but you’re holding me. You’re so warm.” 

“That’s not a dream. We're on our way back home.” Sam chuckled.

He could feel Vetinari frowning. “That’s how I know this is a dream. You would never hold me like this. ”

Vimes’s arms automatically tightened around Havelock's body. “Maybe not when you’re awake. But you’re hurt and I need to keep you warm.” 

Vetinari mumbled something.

“Sorry?” Sam asked, and then nearly had a heart attack. 

“I love you.”

Silence stretched. Sam felt more than heard Havelock’s deep breathing over the roar of the wind and the rushing of blood through his veins. His heart tried its best to hammer through his ribcage while Sam replayed the last few years in his head. Little pieces fell into place until the world suddenly made a lot more sense.  

“I love you too.” 

To his relief and disappointment, there was no reply this time. Maybe Havelock had finally drifted off for real. Maybe that was for the best. Sam wasn’t sure whether Vetinari would remember any of this conversation, probably not. But he would, and he needed time to figure out what he was going to do about it.

The sun was crawling toward the horizon. It would be dark soon. They would need to find a place to stay overnight. Just as Sam had finished the thought, a small village came into view. It was the kind people called quaint on their way through, hoping as heck their carriage wouldn’t break down. 

Sam landed in a clearing two hundred yards away from the outskirts and stored the flying carpet in a hollow tree. He splashed water from a brook into Havelock’s face and slapped his cheeks until he groggily opened his eyes. 

“Sam?” 

“In the flesh, your lordship.” Vimes smiled. “Come, we need to get you to bed.” 

Vetinari’s eyes flew open before he winced. He gingerly touched the back of his head. 

Sam who had flushed crimson after he had realised what he’d just said, especially given the new information that had come to light during the flight, helped Vetinari to his feet. When Havelock swayed, Vimes quickly slung the man’s arm over his shoulders. 

As they made their way through the trees, Havelock said, “Vimes-“

“Sam.”

“Sam, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to see you but, why, and more to the point, how are you here?”  

Vimes breathed a sigh of relief, but he had to make sure. “What’s the last thing you remember?” 

The first house came into view when Vetinari said, “I was in the Marcheese family lodge in the company of some rather unpleasant individuals and then nothing, I’m afraid.” 

“You don’t remember anything after they knocked you out?” 

“No- uhmm,” Vetinari hissed. "Not until you woke me up just moments ago."

Sam took a deep breath. It was as he’d thought. Now he only had to figure out what to do about it.

“There is a coaching inn. Let’s get a room and I’ll fill you in.” 

Sam scrunched his eyes shut. Damn! Good thing Havelock couldn’t see his face right now. 


	5. Complicity

The inside of the inn was warm and smelled of horse and home cooked meals. All eyes turned on them when they walked through the door. 

A lady in her fifties dried her hands on her apron when she stepped around the counter to greet them. 

“Evenin’, sirs.”

“Good evening, madam,” said Sam. “We were wondering whether you could assist us. We’re in need of lodgings for tonight.”

“Only one room left, I’m afraid. But there’s always the stables. It’s two dollars for the room and six-pence for the stables plus another dollar per horse per night.” She gave Vetinari a wary look who smiled back at her in a surprisingly disarming way that said, I’m but a humble, weary traveller. Sam was mildly impressed. 

“No horses, and we can share the room,” Vimes replied. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Havelock out of his sight again. 

The woman eyeballed them. “Now, yer see sharin’s just for kin, otherwise it’s the stables. I’m the open-minded sort, ask anyone, but I won’t have word spread we allow amoral goin’ ons in here.”  

Sam tried to smile, but only ended up gritting his teeth. “Madam-“

“If I may?” Vetinari interrupted. He smiled at the woman again which made her take a slight step back.

“The fact is,” Havelock said, “we were robbed.”

“Robbed?” The look of shock quickly turned into one of suspicion. “Then, how were yer goin’ to pay me?” 

“Ah,” Vetinari produced a roll of cash from somewhere which immediately captured the landlady’s full attention. “They only took the most obvious loot before we were able to chase them away.” Vetinari casually flicked a five dollar bill and handed it to her. She snatched it out of his fingers, turning it over a few times, before it disappeared into the folds of her apron. 

“Alright, I’ll get yer change, but I still can’t allow—“

Havelock held up his hand which was such a familiar sight, Sam had to fight to keep the soppy grin off his face. 

“You are clearly a business woman of integrity and high standards. Which means you’re also going with the times—” she tried not to preen, but couldn’t quite manage it, “—and as such would not keep a married couple apart.” 

“Married?” She cried out loud enough for heads to turn their way. 

Sam’s chin didn’t even have time to sag before Havelock took his hand and held it out. 

“They took the wedding band. Can you imagine?” Havelock shook his head.

The landlady stared at Vimes’ finger which still had the indentation from years of wearing his ring when he was married to Sybil. 

“Oh, those bastards! Nothin’ sacred to that lot.” Her eyes full of sympathy. “Married’s different. Yers from Genua, aren’t yer?”

“It’s the accent, isn’t it?” Havelock beamed at her and casually threaded his fingers through Sam’s who tried not to stare at their joined hands. 

She tapped the side of her nose. “Likes I said, I’m the open-mind sort. Yers not the first gentlemen from Genua travellin’ through. Room’s yers.” 

“Oh, you’re too kind,” 

“Can I get yer anythin’ else? Food? Bath?” 

“Both,” they replied at the same time which made them look at each other. 

“Aww. Newlyweds, aren’t yer?” She was clearly charmed.

“Is it that obvious?” Havelock smiled and gave Sam what could only be classified as a besotted look before he turned his attention back to her. “Do keep the change, by the way. And how much for the food and bath?”

She waved a hand, but when he flicked another five dollars her way, she took it with a sheepish smile before she went to fetch the key. 

“That was quite the gamble,…dear,” Sam hissed out of the corner of his mouth. His face was on fire. 

Havelock looked at him. “But it paid off. Unless you’d prefer the stables, darling.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Immensely.”

The room was upstairs at the end of the corridor. It was on the small side with nothing but a double bed. 

“Bath will be ready downstairs in about half an hour. Yer want yer supper before or after?”

On cue their stomachs growled. “Before,” they said together again which prompted another smile from the landlady. 

They took their meal with the rest of the guests in the common room. Unsurprisingly, they were ogled, but at least no-one made an attempt to talk to them. Five years ago, they would have been dragged to the village square and beaten into a pulp for even hinting at a relationship between two men. 

It all changed shortly after the Low King became the Low Queen, and suddenly, other things seemed possible, at least in the bigger cities. Out here, however, Sam would have rather not bet his life on the woman’s definition of “open-minded”. He voiced his opinion to his “husband” over dinner in hushed tones. 

“I know the region a fair bit,” Havelock shrugged. “They get too many tourists travelling through to be picky about whose money they’ll accept. And they rely on their customers to spread the good word and come back. It wasn’t that big a gamble, trust me.” 

“Trust you?” Sam growled, and then continued in a quieter but not less angry tone.

“How can I trust a friend who disappears without a word for four months. Four months, Havelock! Not one letter or at least a clacks. ‘Am alive’, that would have done it.” 

Vetinari sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. He glanced around the room before he quietly replied, “You knew where I had gone.”

Sam just glared in response. Now that the danger had passed, the anger and worries of the past weeks came crashing back. He stabbed at his food. 

“Uh-hn. But, in case you’ve forgotten, that wasn’t exactly where I found you now, was it? You’d be dead. Dead! You can’t just— ” 

“Yes, thank you for saving my life. Again. You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Yes, I bloody well did! That’s what—” He was suddenly acutely aware of their audience, “—husbands do!"

"You're upset."

"Yes, I bloody well am," he growled, staring into the cold blue eyes. 

"Sam—"

"Save it. I’m having a bath, but we’re not done!” Vimes shoved his plate away and went to look for the bathroom. 


	6. Irresistibility

Sam looked up when the door to their room opened and Vetinari slipped inside. His hair was still damp from his bath which also made the borrowed nightshirt cling to him in distracting ways. Sure, he was skinny, but what was there, was all lean muscles and sinews. No wonder the bastard was heavy as hell.

When Havelock unceremoniously dropped his trousers he had worn underneath, Sam swallowed and fixed his eyes on the candle on the windowsill. He had looked away quickly, but not quick enough that he couldn’t help but notice that Vetinari, like him, had surrendered his underwear to the landlady downstairs when she had offered to do the laundry for them.

“Gertrude said to just leave them outside, she’d take care of the rest,” Vimes mumbled. 

Without a word, Vetinari folded his trousers and dropped them on top of Vimes' messy pile before he closed and locked the door again.

“Which side do you want to sleep on?” Sam asked, trying not to fidget. Naked. They were basically naked. They would be in the same bed. It was big. But not very. Actually, it was one of those ridiculously small double beds, barely 4 feet wide. Which was fine. It would be fine. Friends could share. No problem. Sure. Just friends, at least as far as Havelock knew. Fine, fine. 

“I don’t mind,” Vetinari replied. “Shall I take right?” 

Goosebumps spread across Sam’s body when Havelock accidentally brushed against him as he walked to his side of the bed. Vimes darted to the left and slipped under the covers, hoping as hell Vetinari hadn’t noticed what his almost naked presence was doing to his composure. 

“Are you still upset?” Havelock asked, sitting in bed next to him and fluffing his pillow which almost made Sam laugh because it was such a domestic thing to do and, for the life of him, he still couldn’t quite think of Vetinari as a normal person who had to do mundane things like fluffing pillows and asking questions he couldn’t possible know the answer to. 

How strange! Without his spy network, Vetinari was just another man. No, that was wrong. He was still Vetinari, but without the advantage of knowing all the answers up front. If he wanted to know something, he actually had to ask the question and rely on his conversation partner to tell him the truth. 

“Yes.” The bath had given Vimes time to cool down a little, but he was still bewildered and angry. Especially, since he knew now how Havelock really felt about him. 

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at the other man who was wriggling under the covers, trying to get comfortable. 

“It’s so unlike you to get caught off guard. What the hell were you doing?” Sam asked.

“How did you know where I was?” Yes, that was a very Havelock thing to do. Don’t answer the question if you could pose one of you own instead, but Sam wasn’t having it.

“I have my ways, and you didn’t answer my question.”

Vetinari sighed. “It was a risk worth taking. The informant used to be a very loyal friend of my aunt’s. But everyone’s luck runs out at some point.”

“Why didn’t you contact me? I could have helped!”

“I didn’t want to involve anyone else. It’s a family problem and has nothing to do with Ankh-Morpork. At least, not yet. The Marcheese have been rivals of the Meserole for three hundred years.” 

“I didn’t say tell the commander of the Watch, I said contact _me_! I’m supposed to be your friend, remember?” 

Havelock flopped onto his side. Sam flinched in surprise when their knees touched. They both apologised and pulled back as far as the blanket would let them, which wasn’t very far. 

Vetinari huffed. “I never contacted you because it quite frankly never occurred to me.” 

“Never occurred? You are in trouble. You tell your friends. They come and help. That’s how it works!” Something didn’t add up, he just couldn’t put his finger on it yet. 

“Fine. But why did you never contact me at all, then?” Sam asked.

Havelock narrowed his eyes. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but neither did you.”

“Yes, I did,” hissed Sam.

Vetinari went quiet, his face completely blank. 

Sam nodded. “I sent a clacks to Genua and they said you'd arrived, but left the city again after two weeks. They didn't know where to. Nobody did. Not there. Not in the city either. Not Pseudopolis. Not bloody Überwald. You were nowhere. I was worried you were dead in a ditch somewhere!”

To his surprise, Havelock looked away first. “My apologies. I hadn’t appreciated the strength of your feelings in this matter.” 

“You hadn’t—“

“I told you I thought a clean break would be best for all concerned.”

“From your friends as well?” Sam was nearly shouting, hands bunching in the blanket. 

“I guess I’m out of practice. It has been a long time since I've had a friend.” 

Sam opened his mouth, a witty retort on the tip of his tongue, but that’s where it died, because what Havelock just said had been a lie, of sorts. 

_Because you don’t think of me as a friend at all, do you? You think of me as the one who doesn’t love you back. You were trying to…ye gods, you were trying to get over me. Well, you can stop that nonsense right now!_

“Don’t do it again,” Sam finished, almost absentmindedly, his pulse quickening. 

Vetinari nodded. “Understood. Shall we go to— ” 

“Good,” Vimes interrupted, his eyes drifting to Havelock’s lips. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Sam?” There was a hint of uncertainty in Vetinari’s voice. 

“Hm?” 

“What are you doing?” 

Vimes wriggled closer until their knees touched again, only this time they didn’t flinch. He held Havelock’s gaze before he slowly reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. Strange, almost half a year ago even a handshake had seemed too intimate. Now, after four months of separation, Sam felt he couldn’t get close enough. 

“You should know that you said something to me on the flight when you were still under the influence of that drug.”

Vetinari stared at their joined hands. “What - exactly - did I tell you?” 

“Wrong question. Ask me what I said in response.”

Havelock’s eyes found his. “What did you—“

Before he could finish, Sam leaned in, his lips brushing against Havelock’s cheek. “I love you too.” 

They stared at each other for two heartbeats before Vimes closed the gap and kissed him. Nightshirts lay forgotten on the floor by the time Havelock rolled on top of him. They groaned into the kiss as their cocks brushed together. 

“Damn, why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asked, 

Vetinari shook his head, “I did.” 

"When— The Cupid Ball?" No wonder he had dreamed about it. Maybe he'd known about Vetinari's feelings for longer than he'd been willing to admit. Maybe he'd just not been ready. Maybe he was just an idiot.  

"Playing word games isn’t telling, you bastard."

“Would you say this was another faux pas?” Vetinari asked, his face in almost serene contrast to the actions of his hand which had wormed between their naked bodies. Sam gasped when clever fingers pressed their cocks together. 

“Depends, are you— damn, are you going to make it up to me?” 

Vimes tried to thrust into Vetinari’s hand, but their position made it impossible. Controlling bastard that he was. 

“Of course.”  


	7. Compatibility

Vimes woke up in the middle of the night, his nose pressed into Havelock's neck, arms and legs entangled. The bed was too short for a man of Vetinari’s size which was why he was stretched out diagonally with Sam half on top of him. 

“Good thing we worked it out or this would have been an uncomfortable night for you,” Sam whispered as he watched the sleeping man. Relaxed was a good look on him. 

“I wouldn’t call this comfortable, but it’s not unpleasant either,” Havelock replied. He chuckled when Sam flinched. 

“Sneaky bastard,” Vimes growled but there was no venom in it. 

“And what does that say about you?” Vetinari retorted with a chuckle, capturing Sam’s lips before he could reply. 

When they pulled back, Vetinari combed his fingers through Sam’s hair and asked, “How fares the Patrician?” 

A puzzled look crossed Vimes' face before his brain cottoned on that Vetinari wasn’t taking about himself. Would he ever get used to hearing “the Patrician” and not picture Havelock? Probably not. 

He shrugged. “City hasn’t burned down yet. He and Carrot seem to be getting on.” 

“And how about you?”

“Haven’t seen him since the inauguration.” 

Vetinari stopped moving his hands and raised an eyebrow. 

“I haven’t been back to the palace since you left.”

“Why?”

“You know damn well, why,” grumbled Sam. Given their current position, he didn’t think the point needed to be elaborated on any further. 

Vetinari said nothing and just stared at him for two solid, unblinking minutes before he shifted until their positions were reversed. Unlike their nearly desperate earlier lovemaking, Havelock took his time, tracing every line on Sam’s body. Every scar Vimes had earned in his service was worshipped with lips and tongue until Sam was a panting mess. 

“Look at me,” Havelock said, his lips just hovering over Vimes’ cock. Sam glanced down, Vetinari’s eyes looked almost black and for once there was colour in those pale cheeks. 

He tried his best to obey, but his head snapped back out of its own accord when warm, wet heat enveloped his cock. His fingers found their way into black hair, pulling and pushing, forcing a rhythm. When he glanced down and watched his cock disappear between those wicked lips, Sam’s mouth opened in a silent O. He was close, so close. His body took over, hips bucking. Vetinari pulled back but only enough to let him fuck his mouth until he came with a silent moan. Havelock let him go, licking his lips. 

“Come here,” Sam panted, pulling Vetinari on top of him for a desperate kiss, tasting himself on the other’s tongue. If this was Havelock's idea of an apology, Sam rather hoped he’d never learn. 

He felt Vetinari grope for his hand. Taking the hint, Vimes wrapped his hand around Havelock’s cock until Vetinari moaned into his mouth as he tipped over the edge. 

They dozed for a while, just lying close and listening to their breathing. Eventually, Sam fished for one of the nightshirts and used it to clean up as best he could. Havelock chuckled into the pillow. 

“Hn?”

“Married or not, I’m afraid one if us will taint the pristine reputation of this humble abode if he shows up wearing that or nothing for breakfast.”

Vimes looked at the shirt and dropped it. “Then, we have to stay here until our clothes are washed and dry.”

“Oh no,” Vetinari replied with a smirk, pulling Sam into this arms. 

“I’m prepared to make that sacrifice,” said Sam. “At least it means I know where you are.” 

Havelock was quiet for a while before he asked, “And what will we do after the clothes are dry?” 

“Eat, go home, in that order.” Sam felt Havelock tense. He raised his head from Vetinari’s chest. “What is it?” 

“I’m afraid I can’t go back to the city.”

Sam said nothing. Taking a leaf out of Vetinari’s book, he just silently stared at him until Havelock sighed.

“Very well. For centuries, my mother’s family has been involved in a feud with a rival Genuan noble house, the Marcheese. I won’t bore you with the details, but let’s just say, they’ve grown rather ambitious in recent years. I’m afraid it’s time to end this conflict once and for all, one way or another.”  

Sam considered this for a moment. He shrugged. “Fine. So, where do we need to go next?”

“We?” There was an odd look in Vetinari’s eyes, something between amusement and fondness with a hint of hope. This, too, was a good look on him. 

“You don’t think I’ll let you out of my sight again, do you?” 

Havelock bit his lower lip as if he tried not to smile. “Sam, you get nervous further than two miles outside the city limits. I appreciate your concern, but I can’t possible keep you from your duties for what are, I’m afraid, very selfish reasons.”

“Don’t worry, your lordship. I’ve very selfish reasons of my own.” 

“And what are those?” Of course the bastard would ask him to spell it out.

_Ah, to hell with it._

“I’m miserable when I'm away from you. Do you know what it’s like being separated from someone you just know should be there?” 

Havelock touched Sam’s brow with his fingertips, “I dare say I do.”

“Then, we go sort out this family business of yours. If I know you, it will ultimately benefit Ankh-Morpork if we get it right. And since what you told me sounds awfully fishy, I dare say you could do with a bit of official law enforcement support. And when all is said and done,” Sam’s lips brushed against Havelock’s with every word, “you will come home with me. Any questions?”

Vetinari sighed. “Do I have a choice?” 

“Not really, no. I dare say neither of us do. I mean just look at what happens when we’re not together. Misery and death, that’s what. But suit yourself, if you’d rather—“ 

Havelock silenced him with a kiss. “Then, may I detain you for a little while longer?” 

“How long will that be?” asked Sam. 

“As long as you want.”

The End 


End file.
